Wild Child
by Anais1
Summary: AU - When everything you expect is different and you've been living completely contrary to expectations, what do you do? Become a Wild Child, of course
1. Chapter One The Forbidden Forest

**The Wild Children**

**By Kateen**

There are many like me, wild children, we're called by the big men who come hunting in our forest.  They don't like us; we're too different.  They came through and tried to catch us a few moons ago, but nobody was taken.  We're too good.  If any one was caught, they were rescued before the big men even realized that they'd caught them.  We fight like the devil incarnate; everything is allowed – hands, feet, teeth, other items you can find, and, of course, your powers.  The fighting is what made me something of the leader for the whole group; I fight the best, and I have the strongest powers.

Probably more important than that, however, is who I am… I don't know.  Hell, I don't think I've ever heard my name – but I know that it's hidden in the depths of my memory, I just have to find it first.  Something'll trigger it one day, but not for a while – probably not for years.  I'm 196 new-moons (sixteen years) old. I live with the other wild children in the forest; those who were hit by the big people, have no family and don't like the houses for children like them, and, of course, those who ran away – like me.  Being all powerful among the wild children is nice, but I don't want to do it forever, and I won't.  Being a wild child is not who I am, nor is it my life – something tells me that I have other places to go and other people to meet.  One day, I might be taken away from here; but they'd have to find me first.

The forest we live in, has many names… the animals call it – _Samud__ (home of all) – and the plants whisper of it as _Wilderness_.  The big men call it the __Dark Forest, and the people in black dresses say it's the __Forbidden__Forest. We, the wild children, call it home.  There are hundreds, and thousands, of different animals and plants throughout the forest.  Some of them are dangerous, but the day one gets _me_, is the day I'm dead or Hell Freezes Over.  All of the wild children are good at negotiating with the animals, and talking to the plants.  We don't speak human to each other, but the languages of the forest.  We talk in our minds, we talk with pictures, we talk through plants and animals._

A brown, barn owl dropped a heavy piece of bark on my lap one morning many moons ago, but none of us could read it.  So I took it back to where it had come from.  Our forest is right in front of a big castle, which is full of little people for ten moons and then empty for two.  I took the piece of bark up to the door, and went inside.  When I got to the big Room, it was empty – so I put the letter on the big seat at the table on the other end.

One of the other Wild Children said we should watch the other little people – maybe one day we'd be like them – but I said we shouldn't because maybe then they would leave us alone and stop trying to hunt us.  We all agreed, so… no more spying on the little people in the big castle.  Instead we only spy on those who come into the _Samud_ because that's allowed.  

There was one man, a bigger man, who often came into the _Samud to talk to the eight-legs.  He was kind-hearted, but blind.  He never saw us.  A few moons ago, he stopped coming.  Now his dog is brought with the wise-man, white-hair and his friends._

Wise-man white hair often came into the forest now.  I can only remember one other time that he came in before the big man stopped coming.  He was old, but young at heart and walked with confidence in his step.  Now the wise man is feeble and is often led by a dark, sallow looking man with a frown imprinted on his face.  The wise man sees and hears us, but can not find us.  We are not a secret, we are just private.

But the wise-man is not the only one who visits the forest.  There is also the werewolf and the dog man.  Both come only once a month.  The werewolf is a wild child at heart, and often strays far from the dog man and needs much help after his transformation.  This last time, however, I realized there would be a problem as I was creeping up to him.

He was awake.

I kept moving towards him, crouched low to the ground, my long legs spindling out on either side of me.  I had a sapling full of fresh water for him, and a selection of berries and herbs to heal his wounds all contained in a tight fist, held close to my chest.  He smiled wearily at me, his head slumped heavily on a scarred arm.  I try to smile reassuringly, but instead continue towards him and pull his hair out of his face.

"wa- water?" I ask tentatively, holding the sapling out, unsure if I have the right words – it has, after all, been many moons since I last spoke human.

He nods, "please," he grunts.

I roll him over slightly and pour it down his throat, tickling his adam's apple to make him swallow it.  He smiles benignly, "thank you, child."  It is with a faint smile that he then points to himself, "Moony," he says.

"Moony," I grunt, pointing to him, what does he think I am – Stupid?

He then points at me and looks questioning.

"Not know," I shrug, "No name."

"Everyone has a name, child," he says kindly, slowly sitting up.

I shake my head, "Not all.  Many children no names have."  He doesn't respond, intent as he is on trying to stand.  I watch as he slowly pushes himself up a little, with many winces of pain.  I watch his movements, "Leg?" I ask, pointing to his leg.

He nods, "I think it's broken," he looks quite exhausted and I take pity on him.

Pointing to myself, "No name help Moony," I say calmly, slightly more confident in my use of the language he spoke after a few sentences, and with a small struggle fix myself as a balance for him to limp along back to the castle and his dog friend.  

At the doors to the castle he looks at me, "will you come in?" he asks.

I stare at the doors, maybe it's time I found out what the _message_ was about.  I nod slowly, "but no rope no scare!" I say cautiously.  He nods, obviously understanding this somehow.  I flick my hand and the doors open, and the two of us limp inside, "where?" I ask, looking lost.

"This way," he points to two huge doors at the end of the corridor.  I turn and with a shrug, start moving.  At the doors I wave my hand again and they swing open.  I'm suddenly assaulted by a loud ruckus and realize that there are hundreds of children sitting down, putting strange things into their mouth and all talking in human.  I blink, like a deer caught in the headlights, completely lost as to what to do when suddenly I drop 'Moony' and scamper like a frightened rabbit towards the doors we came in the first time, but they wouldn't open this time.  Someone was holding their powers on this door.

I glared at it angrily and started to focus my own on opening it.  Slowly I began to sense exactly where the other powers were pointed and I built up the pressure around those points but it was about to break free when four other powers that weren't as strong were added.  I pushed harder, and two of them dropped out a few minutes later but still there were three there, fighting me.

As someone grasped me in their arms and lifted me off the ground, pulling me away, my connection broke and I sagged back in their arms, not realizing that it was the dog man who was holding me and one of the three powers that had remained was from him.  I did, however, notice that the big power came from the wise-man with the white hair who sat in the big, ornate chair that I'd put the message back on, all those months ago.


	2. Chapter Two The Great Hall

The Wild Children  
By Kateen They don't think I'm awake, and so they talk freely in front of me. I frighten them; it took five of them to beat me and they don't understand. How can they not understand, it is simple - I am just more powerful. But that's not what they are talking about. Instead, they want to know who I am and why I'm a wild Child. What if I don't know myself? What then? Do they just invent someone for me to be. I sigh and shift slightly, I am in the white room and they are in the seats around me - my five jailors. There is the wise-man white hair, and the dog man, and the werewolf who captured me. But beside them are two other people - the feline and the raven. "You can open your eyes now, child," said the man with the white hair, "I know you are awake." I fix my eyes on him in a deadly glare, "want go Samud," I said succinctly, knowing I sounded like a fool but not having the words, or the know how, to say it properly. "Samud- Albus, what's he talking about?" This from the feline. They whispered for a few minutes and then the werewolf spoke up, "Samud is the beast name for the Dark Forest," he whispered, "the child speaks the languages of the forest, not English." "Do you speak it?" the raven man asked nastily. Werewolf shook his head, "No, being there once a month doesn't mean you learn much - werewolves aren't trusted much among beasts either, Severus." "But I thought, because you were coming back less injured that you had-" the raven man trailed off. "No," the werewolf shook his head, "I was healed by the wild children - like this child." I sat up carefully and watched them, but finally I pointed to the wise-man white hair, "white hair," I said slowly, "where big man, like eight leg?" There was a momentary silence and then the man flicked a stick and a picture of the big man appeared, I nodded, "where he?" I asked, "nice man. Bring gift for eight leg. Eight leg not kill no name." "He saved your life?" the wise-man asked interestedly. I nodded, "many time, think eight leg kill, big man save." "Remus, can you please send an owl to Azkaban - we need our Gamekeeper back. Child," the wise man looked at me, "I am Albus Dumbledore, do you have a name?" With a sad sigh I shook my head, "not human name. Forest name; Telmah." Everyone looked to the werewolf for an explanation, but he looked somewhat lost, "it is not a word I am familiar with," he said slowly, "but it implies savior, or protected one - the one who is darkness and light would be a somewhat close translation," I nod slowly, "is yes." "How old are you?" the wise-man asked. "Old?" I was confused, why did it matter - the ways of the beasts were simple, age was irrelevant. All that mattered was how well you could fight, "Many moons," I said finally, "many, many moons." They looked at each other and then wise-man said finally, "Child, we would like to know who you really are. Can I cast a spell on you to find out who you are?" "Spell?" I looked lost, what was a spell? "Use magic," the greasy man supplied, "use powers." "POWERS?!" I blinked and scrambled away as fast as I could, "no! Not hurt!" The Wise-man smiled soothingly and slowly I settled down as he spoke, "no, child, we wouldn't use powers that would hurt you. Instead we will use one that will tell us information." Slowly it began to sink in and I nodded slowly, "not you," I said carefully, "him use power!" I pointed to the greasy-haired man, "him help wise-man help no name!" "Severus!" the wise-man commanded. He raised his wodden stick, "Informaticas!" Slowly, as though an old tree, with hidden roots, being pulled out of the earth, clouds began to form in front of me:  
  
Harold James Evans Potter James Potter (1956-1981), Lily Potter (nee Evans)(1957-1981) 15 years, 11 months, 4 days Alpha Wild Child The Forbidden Forest Hogwarts  
  
I stared at it, somewhat scared that all that talked about me, and I didn't understand it! "What say?" I asked the greasy-haired man, "what say?" "You're name is Harry Potter," he said slowly, "you are almost sixteen years old and you live in the Forbidden Forest and you would be placed in- ALBUS! What does it mean, Hogwarts?" The wise-man - to whom that question was obviously addressed - looked more that slightly surprised, "I'm not one-hundred percent sure, Severus. It's something of a surprise to me. I do believe that it's telling us that Harry, here, would not have fitted into any one house here but would have been placed as a 'Hogwarts Student' rather than a Slytherin or a Gryffindor, for example." "But Albus, surely he cannot be equally endowed with the qualities of the four houses; I mean, most of them are the polar opposites of each other!" this came from the feline who was quite disgruntled. "Child," the wise-man addressed me, "would you like to join us as a student, here? Your parents were both students here many years ago; you could learn to use your powers so that they were very strong." Staring around, my eyes looked first from one to another. The Feline looked almost nervous about the idea of me being in the same school as her, while the Raven was conspicuously non-committal and the werewolf was somewhat pleading. The wise-man however, looked as though he really really wanted me to agree. I shrugged, "learn use powers?" They all nodded slowly and I shrugged again, "yes?" I looked tentatively at them. There were audible sighs of relief from four different directions. I'd obviously made the right choice. I didn't quite understand it then, but apparently it was one of those choices that was to change my life forever. Learning to use my powers was somewhat appealing but, at the same time, quite dangerous. I looked at the werewolf, "eat?" I asked tentatively, "hungry?" They all jumped into action at that point and I was quickly bundled into various different outfits that felt quite scratchy and uncomfortable, but were nice and warm - unlike the werewolf or unicorn skin I usually wore wrapped around and held in place by a piece of hide - and, holding the werewolf's hand, I was hurried down the stairs and back into the big room that I'd taken the werewolf to. It was almost empty this time, but a few children looked at me curiously; I glared half-heartedly back at them, more interested in what was in front of them - food. "Harry," the man said awkwardly, "I wanted to thank you for saving my life and helping me all those times. It must have taken great courage to help a werewolf." I shook my head and told him the truth, "not brave. Moony - good man; friend. Like Padfoot." He blinked, "you remember us?" I looked at him, "why not?" "You were a very little boy." he trailed off, "what about Peter?" "Peter?" I was confused, who was Peter? Was he the rat-like man who always had the key in his hand? "Rat?" He nodded, "yes, the rat." "Wormtail," I nodded, "bad man." The man was, apparently, stunned into silence and stared at me strangely - like I'd done something wrong. I shifted back in my seat and focused on the food in front of me. It was some form of meat, a casserole - I think - and I poked it around with my finger, unsure what to do with it. Finally the man snapped out of his stupor and stopped acting like I'd done something wrong and showed me how to use the four pronged thing he called a fork. Then he explained the knife, and suddenly I understood where it came from - the sharp rock that we wild children used to carve up the meat was the modern version of the knife! I shared that revelation, as best I could, with my new 'friend' who laughed lightly and shook his head, "no, Harry. The sharp rock you use is the predecessor of the knife. Do you understand?" Slowly I shook my head, "predeseccor?" I queried. "The thing that came before." he explained. I nodded, "Understand." "You knew Wormtail was a bad man?" he asked as I ate. I was making hard work out of it - but using a knife and fork was new to me and I wanted to do it right. I slowly, and carefully, carved up small pieces of the meat and vegetables and popped them into my mouth. Never being one to complain about food of any sort - having lived with a considerable shortage for a considerable amount of time - I had no complaints other than that it was perhaps too flavoured. My mouth full, I nodded, "very bad man - got Padfoot in trouble. Kill Lily and Prongs." A clear, water-like substance appeared in the corner of the man's eyes and I was surprised. I'd seen it in some of the other children's eyes when they first joined us, but only ever once and then it was forgotten. Usually one of the girl-children would take them and look after them until it went away. I looked at it curiously, "what is?" I asked, finally, pointing to it. I sensed, somehow, that the man was ashamed of it, but I was interested and wasn't going to fight him for it. "It's tears, Harry, we get tears in our eyes when we are very sad about something." Suddenly I understood, "you know Lily? Prongs? Or Padfoot?" "All of them. I was good friends of your parents and Padfoot is my best friend. We're still trying to find Wormtail." "Padfoot no more trouble?" I asked, confused. I had been kept abreast of information by the spiders - who got the news from the big, scary man - when they weren't trying to eat me, and they had said nothing about Padfoot being safe again, "why not come for son?" "Son?" the man queried. "Prongs' child," I nodded, "see dreams. Son, in big mess - big man see, take to family. Child not happy." "Harry," the man said gently, "he couldn't come and get Prong's Son, because we didn't know where he was. You are Prongs' Son. We spent years looking for you, but the one time we did find you; you brought the letter back without leaving so much as a trace - except that you were still alive." I blinked, "true?" I asked the slimy-haired man who had appeared on my other side. He nodded, "Yes," he said shortly and served himself a meal, glancing surreptitiously my way as he ate.x 


End file.
